


The Titan

by TheLittlestShinigami



Category: Huntik: Secrets & Seekers
Genre: DeFoe abuse, DeFoe feels, DeFoe makes things hard for everyone, Escape, Gen, Mad Science, The Professor really doesn't care what happens to people., The Professor recycles, lots of surgery, what really happened when DeFoe was "bumped off"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-20 23:36:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/893228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittlestShinigami/pseuds/TheLittlestShinigami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You are now the Professor's most prized possession," the suit said.<br/>"What does that mean?" DeFoe asked. The man ignored him and left. "What does that mean!" DeFoe finds himself trapped as the test subject for the Professors latest experimental weapon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Abducted

"I still have operative access. I can steal all the titans I need from the Organization; then I'll come for you, Dante Vale."

DeFoe, while packing up his office in the basement of the organization, did not expect assault, especially not one from Grier, his new right hand man. So, though he knew all sorts of ways to defend himself, he was caught off guard and Grier covered his mouth before he could command any destructive spells.

DeFoe fought against Grier's strong arms, kicking the table and causing some objects to fall and break in his effort to get loose. His attempts proved useless when Grier, fed up with the struggle, brought his elbow down hard on the back of DeFoe's head. DeFoe saw stars and then all consciousness fell away.

DeFoe regained his hearing about an hour afterwards and a little of his feeling, however hazy. He was cold, lying on a hard, cold surface and there were voices of men around him, discussing something.

"Here are the amulets I have chosen." He heard one man say.

"Sir," another, younger, replied, "it might be best if we start with one, in case the operation is a failure. That way, your others are safe and we would only need to cut out and clean one."

"So be it," the first man consented. "Use this one."

There was a dull pain in one of DeFoe's arms. He was awake enough to feel the need to escape, but not enough to do anything else. It was impossible to tell time in such a state, but he figured it wasn't long before the ache in his arm began to ebb and he went to sleep.


	2. First Meeting with the Professor

When DeFoe opened his eyes, it seemed like no time had passed; the room was completely dark. His head and back ached badly. What had happened? As he shifted, he became aware of his surroundings; he was lying on a stainless steel operating table, covered up to his chin with a scratchy woolen blanket. A bag of yellow fluid hung on a metal coat rack and a tube left it and disappeared underneath the covers. He slowly pulled the covers back, revealing the needle taped into his arm.

Did Grier really hurt me that badly; did someone find me? He thought. But this room didn't look like an ordinary hospital. For one thing, he was the only patient. Also, there were no doctors around. The dark room was cluttered with books and other than the trays of sharp surgical tools lying around, the bag of fluid and the operating table, it looked very much like a basement. In fact, it looked much like the basement in the Organization's headquarters.

A door opened in the darkness, letting a square ray of white light fall across him. He squinted to see who stood in the doorway.

"It looks like he's awake." One of the two people in the doorway said.

"Bring him to the Professor at once." The other one, a Russian by his accent, commanded and left.

The man complied and entered the room.

"Up and at 'em, DeFoe," the man, a suit by the look of him, said as he approached.

In other circumstances, he would have challenged his authority, since a suit had no right to order him, who had been much more important to the Organization than any of the suits had dared dream of, but DeFoe was so confused, that he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the table. It was then that he noticed his bare chest had been wrapped in gauze. The suit approached him, detached the IV needle and tied the wound with a strip of bandage.

"What is going on?" DeFoe asked.

"The Professor wants to see you," the suit replied curtly, helping him to stand. Once he had his balance, the suit left him and walked ahead. "Get the rest of your clothes on. You are now the Professor's most prized possession."

As much as he liked the idea, the circumstances made him suspicious. "What does that mean?" he demanded as he stumbled painfully over to the table where his folded shirt, jacket and glasses were set. The suit ignored him and continued towards the doorway. DeFoe shakily pulled his shirt over his head, slipped his arms through his coat and put on his glasses.

"What does that mean!" He repeated, staggering towards the door. Suddenly, bile rose in his throat and, quickly grabbing the wastebasket by the doorway, emptied what was left of his dinner into it. When he did, fiery pain shot between his shoulder blades.

"The Professor does not like to be kept waiting," the suit said, grabbing him by the arm and leading him down the brightly lit hallway. DeFoe shielded his adjusting eyes from the glare.

He was led up stair after stair, having to stop often, until they reached the Professor's private room at the top of the building. Two suits stood guard outside the closed door. When they saw DeFoe, they stiffened.

"It's alright," the suit who had led DeFoe said. "The Professor called for him."

One of the suits nodded, opened the door and peered inside.

"Sir," he began.

"Yes?" The Professor called from inside. DeFoe was excited for a meeting with the Professor, but also afraid, given the rough treatment he had experienced from ordinary suits.

"DeFoe's here."

"Well, send him in, and stay out."

"Yes sir," the suit at the door replied. He grabbed DeFoe by the arm, pushed him inside and closed the door behind him.

DeFoe stumbled forward and felt sick to his stomach again. Not here; he begged his organs, Not in the Professor's personal quarters! It ended up being an idle threat and he stood upright as well as he could, the pain in his back now a constant throbbing.

"Come here, DeFoe," The Professor said.

No "Welcome, DeFoe"? No "How dare you, DeFoe"? What would the Professor say to him? DeFoe obeyed, careful to keep his balance. He glanced around the circular room. They were completely alone, except for the powerful Russian seeker, Rassimov, standing near the door, holding a man in street clothes. Stopping my escape. He realized, nervously. Not even Grier was there, the new head of the suits. What could be so secretive that he was not in on it?

DeFoe approached his desk and the Professor stood from his seat. "Give me your hand." He commanded. DeFoe obeyed. The Professor took it and looked into DeFoe's eyes. "It hasn't been damaged," he mentioned. DeFoe looked over his shoulder and saw the Russian nod. The Professor let go of his hand. "Now, I want you to use Ray Pulse at the wall."

DeFoe obeyed, though it wasn't his best.

"Now Poison Fang," he commanded.

He obeyed. The frightened man was dragged forward. "Erase his memory of what he has just seen," the Professor said.

DeFoe snapped his fingers and said, "Forget," weakly.

The man fell unconscious and Rassinov dragged him to the door and pushed him out into the hallway before closing the door and standing in front of it again. DeFoe was now thoroughly confused.

"His powers aren't very strong, but that could be because of his physical condition and will improve as he heals," the Professor noted.

Rassimov nodded and said, "There is no evidence that the operation did not succeed."

"What operation?" DeFoe asked, nervously.

"I suppose we'll see," the Professor said, moving away from his desk and approaching DeFoe. DeFoe had half a mind to run; what if Grier had heard him ranting to himself about stealing titans from the Organization and had told the Professor? It was a foolish plan, however, since he knew he would hardly make it to the door before he was captured again, if he could make it that far even. No doubt the Professor had at least three amulets on him.

"Emerge. Grifitus!" the Professor shouted.

DeFoe looked around, wildly, trying to see where the enemy titan was attacking from, but then something didn't feel right inside himself. The wound on his back began to burn white hot and his figure began to change. Large, feathery wings sprouted on his back and opened wide, his neck grew thicker and longer, and his face elongated into a beak. A lion's tale wrapped around him from behind and his body stretched and expanded, his feet growing into two golden lion's paws and his arms into thinner lion's forepaws, yet still keeping his fingers.

He was terrified, but he couldn't stop it and by the time he had finished transforming, he had forgotten about stopping it. He was someone else, or at least a part of him was. And more devoted to the Professor than even Grier.

The Professor was speechless with delight; he walked closer to DeFoe and held out his hand to touch his cheek.

"Careful, sir. He may be unruly. The titan is physically bonded to that rebel, DeFoe," the Russian warned.

"But in every way that counts, Grifitus is bonded to me and has been for over twenty years," the Professor countered.

"Yes, sir," Rassimov consented.

The Professor reached for his cheek and, without knowing why, DeFoe bent lower so he could reach it. He touched his beak and DeFoe wanted so badly to snap up his fingers, but he couldn't make himself do it.

"Now comes the real challenge," the Professor said. "Bright the target down!" he ordered Rassimov.

Rassimov shot Augerfrost at the latch on the ceiling that caused a wooden target to swing down into place.

The Professor pointed to it. "Fly up there and shoot it with one of your powers!" he commanded DeFoe.

DeFoe thrust into the air and soared about the room. He flew towards the target, held out a hand and a beam of Poison Fang demolished the target without DeFoe having to say a word, leaving nothing but the smoldering hinge and the acid-eaten debris filtering to the floor. He dropped lightly to the floor and faced the Professor.

The Professor flicked his wrist to make Grifitus retreat. DeFoe tightened and a terrible wind-like force poured inward from all over his body until the titan was completely absorbed into the amulet. DeFoe regained control of himself and once the tightness ceased, he fell limply to the floor, meaning to catch himself on his hands and knees but not having the strength to. He shakily pushed himself to his knees and tried to stand, but he lost his balance and fell to his knees again.

His hair stuck out in odd directions, his glasses were crooked on his face and his eyes were wild with fright and bewilderment. "Wha—?" he panted, "What have you done to me?"

"You have been bound to a titan in a way no seeker ever has," the Professor answered, coolly. "The amulet containing Grifitus is sautered to your backbone, safely inside your ribcage. The most secure guarding box and weapon all rolled into one. Let's see Dante Vale or anyone from the Huntik Foundation try to steal my amulets now."

This would be a serious blow against Dante Vale, DeFoe admitted. He had planned on stealing some amulets from the Organization anyway; now, one was laid in him that could not be taken away. Perhaps this was a good thing.

"It appears to have been a success, Professor," Rassimov said as he approached the two. DeFoe was finally able to stand, however uncertain it was.

"Yes," the Professor agreed, "I believe we should insert all of them right away."

All of them? DeFoe took a step back. "You— you're going to put more of those things inside me?" he asked, struggling to keep the shake out of his voice.

"As soon as possible. Which pretty much means now." He replied.

On cue, suits appeared out of nowhere and apprehended DeFoe by the arms and tied a gag around his mouth to keep him from using any spells. He struggled, but there was no fighting the whole group of them; he was being walked forcibly towards the door and, he suspected, back to the operating room in the basement.

"Don't fret, DeFoe," the Professor said, taking his seat behind his desk. "You fought for a permanent place in the Organization, and now you have it. You'll be working closer to me than just about anyone."

DeFoe stared anxiously over his shoulder at the Professor as he was muscled out of the door and down the hallway.


	3. The Second Surgery

About halfway down the stairs, DeFoe gathered his wits about himself again and lurched forward, trying to get the whole group of them to tumble down the stairs, leaving DeFoe a chance to leap out the window to freedom, but his plan failed; the suits on the outer edges grabbed the railing, and being such a tight mass of people, no one so much as stumbled. The only thing his efforts accomplished was making the suits holding his arms and shoulders grip more tightly.

"Let go of me!" DeFoe commanded, though through the gag it was half the volume and sounded like: "Mrph non memph!" He wrenched his shoulder out of one of their holds, but the twisting motion caused his back to hurt worse than before and it was caught again.

They reached the basement as quickly as if DeFoe had cooperated and went into the room he had awoken in ages ago, it seemed. The lights were on this time, however, and two surgeons were preparing the table and instruments. One of the surgeons was carefully pulling amulets out of a plastic bag and setting them on a silver tray set on a chair beside the operating table.

DeFoe watched in horror; three… four, surely they would not put in more than four. Five? Six! This was madness! He pulled backwards, struggling to get loose. The suits held him firmly and pulled him over to the operating table.

"Remove his coat and shirt," one of the surgeons directed. The suits obeyed and cast them to the floor, knocking off his glasses in the process. "And lay him on the table here," the surgeon said, holding an IV syringe up to the light.

As much as DeFoe struggled, the suits picked him up and held him flat on the table. Suits put their weight on his arms and legs so tightly that he could not move. DeFoe looked at the surgeon quickly.

The surgeon chuckled slowly as if he had all the time in the world and nothing to fuss about. "Nervous, aren't we?" he asked DeFoe yet still focused on his own work. He brought the syringe closer and pushed the end of the needle into the inside of DeFoe's elbow; the vein was easy enough to see since it was raised pretty far above the skin from trying to get out from under the suits. The other surgeon laid duct tape across the needle and when the tube had been connected, across the tube as well. Yellow fluid began to trickle down the tube and into his arm.

"Should we strap him down?" one of the suits asked, struggling to keep the arm with the IV stationary without disturbing the IV.

"There is no need," the surgeon replied. "He'll be asleep in just a few minutes."

DeFoe resolved not to go to sleep and glanced around the room at all the suits that had filed in as guards. He recognized the one holding his leg stationary as the one who had led him to the Professor earlier. The suit looked at nothing but the leg he had pinned.

Maybe transforming into titans wasn't as bad as all that, DeFoe reasoned. The Professor was giving these amulets to him and if he could manage to escape, Dante would not stand a chance. Then again, the Professor had also given him a secure position in the Organization; maybe he had better stay where he was and reap the benefits. But what was his position, really? The Professor was treating him the way he treated that civilian whom DeFoe erased the memory of. Was it really position he was getting?

DeFoe's breathing grew heavy and his struggle against the suits became more and more futile. He didn't have a choice in the matter, he realized, as he watched the surgeon hold up an amulet.

"I believe this will fit the best below the first one."

"I agree," the other surgeon said. "Then maybe that blue one."

His fight died completely, the suits let go of his limbs and the gag was removed from his mouth.

"Turn him over onto his stomach, will you? Carefully!" one of the surgeons said. DeFoe felt his limp body being lifted and laid onto its stomach.

"He appears to be unconscious," the other surgeon said. The last thing DeFoe experienced was the sound of the gauze on his back being slowly cut and laid aside. Then all went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been pretty dark so far, I admit. The next chapter will have some sunlight, I'd expect, though.


	4. Dr. Reese

DeFoe's back was in agony as he lay there in the dark room. Even just thinking about moving caused it to flair in protest. He was still far from opening his eyes, but he heard the door open and a heavy man with a cane approach him: the Professor.

"He looks sickly," the Professor said.

"All patients do after surgery," a man nearby replied quietly.

"I trust you were able to insert them all?"

"There are seven total sautered to his spine," the second man was probably the surgeon, DeFoe surmised.

"Splendid," the Professor said, "Have him in my room in one hour."

"With all due respect, sir—"

"What?" the Professor snapped.

"The patient will need at least eight hours of Deep Heal-ing before he will be well enough to perform. Moving him so soon could damage him and the amulets."

There was a pause. "Very well," the Professor growled. "I want a detailed report of him every half hour.

"Yes, sir."

The Professor walked out of the room and closed the door. The room went silent again and DeFoe fluttered his eyelids open and caught a swift glance of the surgeon bent over a table writing something before they closed again. He sighed and the surgeon glanced back at him and then, seeing no change in the patient's state, went back to writing.

"Please," the frail word rode on DeFoe's breath as he exhaled. The surgeon turned around.

"I didn't expect to hear anything from you so early," he said, "Are you in pain?" Knowing the answer any patient who had just undergone back surgery would give, the surgeon grabbed a syringe off of one of the metal trays and stuck it into the insertion hole on the top of the IV. "That should make you feel better."

"Fool," he breathed and then, with a few breaths in between, "Out."

"That's no way to talk to your doctor," the surgeon said softly as he wrapped the syringe in a hand towel on the tray.

This was as alone as he would ever get, DeFoe realized, except perhaps with the Professor, but he didn't care to try an escape while alone with him. This might be the only chance he had. DeFoe struggled to lift his arm and aim it at the surgeon, but he only succeeded in moving it a little.

"Aug—" he took a deeper breath. "Aug—Auger… frost." There wasn't even a tingling in his hand. DeFoe sighed and closed his eyes; he was too weak.

"That's why you aren't gagged," the surgeon said. "There is no way you could muster enough power to use any spells against me." The surgeon was quiet for a while, writing at the table before he spoke again. "What were you planning on doing once I was down, anyway? If you had sat up, you would have ripped your stitches, bled internally and died before you even made it to the door for the suits to apprehend." He chuckled softly to himself and folded the paper he had been writing on and stuck it into his lab coat pocket. "I'll be right back. Resist the temptation to do anything foolish." He said as he opened the door and left.

DeFoe and the surgeon had a different concept of foolishness, however, and when the surgeon told DeFoe not to do anything foolish, he meant attempting to escape. But the foolish course of action, it seemed to DeFoe, was to remain lying on the operating table even when no one was there to guard him, and waiting for something else to be done to him against his will.

With all his strength, he tried to sit up but failed. He chose an easier course of action and rolled onto his side and slowly inched his feet toward the edge of the operating table. He began to be tangled in the IV tube. DeFoe pulled the duct tape off of his arm, taking the IV with it and let it drop wherever it would. He rolled onto his stomach and felt for the floor. Sweat rolled over his temples and moistened his brow; his back pumped with searing pain that made him nauseous – of course, the anesthetic still wearing out of his body didn't help.

His shoes felt the floor and he gradually put his weight on them. Once he had full weight on the ground, pain ripped up the length of his spine and his knees buckled under him. DeFoe hoped he hadn't torn his stitches, as he crawled slowly for the door. He needed to get out immediately; the surgeon surely wouldn't be gone very much longer.

"Ever Fight," he whispered, to no advantage.

Being with the Organization so long had made him strong and DeFoe liked to think that any normal civilian, or even a normal suit, would not have been able to move their body nearly as well as he could, after such an intense surgery. And despite what the surgeon had told him would happen, he made it to the door and, leaning against the wall, managed to open the door. He felt pretty proud of himself, but once the door was open, however, he wished he hadn't for in the hallway were five suits all staring down at him.

DeFoe clawed his way up the doorpost, trying to get to his feet, but fell back to his hands and knees. He looked back up at the suits, who stood around him stationary without an order. He needed to get out. "Hyperstride," he exhaled, with no response. He held out one hand. "Ray…Pulse." Still nothing. But it did upset the balance between him and the suits; once they realized he meant to escape and was willing to fight to do it, they rushed at him and grabbed hold of him, jerking him to his feet. DeFoe cried out in pain: the clearest he had heard his voice since waking up.

The surgeon came running up the hallway yelling, "What are you doing with him!" in alarm, "Put him back on the table before he bleeds to death. And, for Pete's sake, be careful! The Professor will have all of our heads if he's damaged!"

The suits obeyed, carefully dragging him back to the table. The suit from before, holding his lower back steady, lifted his hand, now red on the palm.

"He's bleeding," the told the surgeon.

"Of course he's bleeding," The surgeon replied irritably. "He shouldn't even be sitting up!" He looked down at DeFoe's drooping head. "I just hope you didn't tear anything."

DeFoe didn't struggle as they laid him on the operating table again and the suit that had spoken covered him back up with the blanket.

"Since it appears I won't be leaving for any amount of time until he is handed over to the Professor," the surgeon began as he looked at DeFoe. Defoe kicked himself for ruining his chances of escape. "I need you to come in every thirty minutes and take my written report the Professor."

The suit hesitated and then replied, "Yes, sir." And exited and closed the door.

The surgeon approached DeFoe and folded back the blanket. "Time for another healing session," he muttered as he placed his hands on DeFoe's chest. "Deep Heal," he said. His hands glowed and the flesh inside DeFoe's ribcage tingled with warmth as it was mended.

"It may not be as quick as Ever Fight, but it does a much better job," he said. "Ever Fight heals from the surface inward, while Deep Heal heals from inward to the surface."

DeFoe didn't care for a lesson. "Let me out," he rasped, the spell having given him strength to speak.

"My name is Dr. Reese, by the way," the surgeon said, ignoring him.

"Don't tell me your name; I don't care what your name is," he breathed. "I want out of this miserable place."

"That isn't possible," Dr. Reese told him. "I'm afraid the Professor is rather adamant about your remaining here."

"And I suppose what the Professor says, goes, doesn't it?"

"Indeed," Dr. Reese said. "Come, don't act so hopelessly; the Professor has a special place for you in his heart, now."

"My knife has a special place in his heart."

Dr. Reese clapped a large hand quickly over his mouth. "Don't speak like that!" he scolded. "Do you want to be killed?"

"He wouldn't kill me," DeFoe said, pushing the surgeon's hand away from his mouth.

"Probably not," Dr. Reese admitted, "since so much rests on you now. But he would wipe your mind clean!"

DeFoe hesitated; he had only heard of such a power. He could only erase certain memories, but there was a rumor that the Professor had another spell, twisted and manipulated by himself, that emptied a mind completely of memories, leaving the victim like a lump of clay, ready for the Professor to mold into any shape he wanted. DeFoe shivered at the thought.

Dr. Reese let the thought soak in as he cleaned the IV needle and pulled the duct tape off of it.

Maybe I had better go along with what the Professor wants. DeFoe thought. Maybe he will give me power and position. I was looking for them anyway. Perhaps we are finally seeing eye to eye, striving for the same prize: Dante Vale. No, even more than him… the entire Huntik Foundation defeated singlehandedly by me, DeFoe, greater than any seeker.

The Professor obtained things in a way few people would tolerate; he bullied and manipulated everyone around him to his own ends. It was as if he viewed everyone as below him, and obligated to serve him. However, the man was so powerful, with no one knew how many spells mastered and bonded with more titans than anyone dared to count, that he received what he desired and if he didn't, serious consequences followed.

Dr. Reese stuck the IV in DeFoe's arm again and taped it up. He laid his hands on his chest and again spoke Deep Heal.

After a short while, the door opened and the suit who had first delivered him to the Professor entered.

"I'm here for the second report," he said.

"Ah, yes," Dr. Reese went over to the table and began writing on a sheet of paper.

As he waited, the suit stared at DeFoe with the face of stone all new suits were required to adopt on duty. At first, it seemed like a glance to pass the time, but he continued staring and it made DeFoe uncomfortable.

"Don't gaze upon me as if I am weaker than you," DeFoe said with less of a rasp in his voice than before.

"Don't trouble yourself with him," Dr. Reese said as he wrote. "He's really quite harmless."

DeFoe did not appreciate this belittlement. "I'll show you harmless," he growled "Augerfrost!" He shouted. Though he felt better than before, there was no evidence he had said anything at all. The suit slowly lowered his defenses.

Dr. Reese smiled and handed the written report to the suit. "See, Austin? Completely harmless. It's just the effect of the drug he's on."

Austin nodded his head of short brown hair, looking at DeFoe – fuming, lying on the operating table – and exited. As soon as he had, the surgeon became angry. He turned to DeFoe.

"Are you trying to get brainwashed?" he demanded.

"What does it matter to you?" DeFoe asked spitefully. "Or to anyone? Why do you care if I am or not?"

"Because I don't like to see it done." He admitted. The surrender in his voice caught DeFoe off guard. "It was done to a friend of mine many years back, and he turned into a monster."

"Friends are extra weight," DeFoe replied. "You would do well to shake yours off, as I have mine."

"You think ties with others are a nuisance?"

"Indeed."

"Even when you're at the end of your rope?"

DeFoe was silent for a moment, shocked by the surgeon's sharp and honest words.

"My rope has no end," he replied. "This situation will prove to be a great achievement; you'll see."

"I know it well enough," Dr. Reese said, bending over the table to write. The conversation was left at that; the surgeon concentrated fully on writing his next report and DeFoe stared at the ceiling.

He would be closer to the Professor than even Rassimov; despite the threatening beginning to this new life, he forced himself to believe all would be well. Besides, he told himself, if it isn't, once I'm healed, escape will be effortless.


	5. Second Meeting with the Professor

Dr. Reese performed Deep Heal on DeFoe every ten minutes for eight hours, and the suit, Austin, arrived each half-hour punctually to receive the written medical and general observation report for DeFoe. As DeFoe gained strength, Dr. Reese and Austin tied a gag around his mouth. Finally, he had healed completely except for the surface of his skin where the stitches were, though it was no deeper than a shallow gash. He was pulled to his feet and, once Dr. Reese realized he was not planning to escape, he was told to dress into the rest of his clothes.

Austin walked him to the door where the guards laid hold of DeFoe as well and muscled him up the stairs. No doubt, the increased rough treatment was because of his little escape attempt earlier that day. Knowing suits, they probably would take extra precaution with him for the unforeseeable future even if he did not act up again.

They approached the double-guarded door swiftly and one of the guards stuck his head inside.

"What is it?" The Professor asked.

"DeFoe is here, sir." The suit answered.

"It's about time! Send him in!"

The door was opened fully, the gag taken from DeFoe's mouth and he was pushed inside much like the last time, except for his physical condition.

"How are you feeling?" asked the Professor once the door was closed.

DeFoe jerked in surprise. "How are you feeling?" When had the Professor asked anyone that before? He hadn't even said "Hello" to DeFoe when they were closest!

"Much better, sir," DeFoe answered quickly.

"You don't feel weak?"

"No, sir."

"Come closer." DeFoe obeyed, walking slowly forward until the Professor stopped him. The Professor appeared displeased. "I hear you made an escape attempt."

DeFoe's heart skipped a beat. "No," he said nervously. "I well, I mean, I did, but I was not in my right mind—"

"Silence!" the Professor shouted.

DeFoe fell to his knees respectfully.

"Know, DeFoe, that defiance is futile and will be punished severely." The way the Professor said the word "severely" made DeFoe sure he meant he would use that brainwashing spell on him.

"It won't happen again," DeFoe apologized, bowing his head.

"Hmph," the Professor sniffed, "see that it doesn't. Stand." DeFoe obeyed. "By now, you know what will happen when I call upon one of my special titans, don't you?"

"I wish it wouldn't, sir." DeFoe tried.

"Quiet. Cowardice does not suit anyone in the Organization." The Professor stood and held out his hand.

Oh no, DeFoe thought, squeezing his eyes closed. Here it comes!

"Pontish!" the Professor hollered.

DeFoe's breath caught in his throat when a strong wind blew all about him. It seemed violent enough to blow him over, but it was on all sides equally and he was able to keep his footing. This titan felt very different and DeFoe didn't feel anything growing, but the wind swirled in tighter and tighter around his body until it pressed him like a cloak. Physically, nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary except his breath sounded strange to his ears and his eyes burnt, but then he felt the madness coming on, like the one that overtook the last time. Something seemed to ooze through his body from his core like warm tar enveloping all of his senses until his reasoning changed and he was ready to die for the Professor.

"We are going to try something a little different, my pet," the Professor told him in a wicked yet affectionate way, no doubt envisioning all the uses for his creation. "Release your titan!" he hollered towards the door.

DeFoe turned his whirlwind-like head and saw a suit standing at the door hold up an amulet and call out: "Redcap!"

The titan emerged and the Professor pointed to it. "Destroy it!" he commanded.

DeFoe rushed at the titan, using Shadowspeed and blew Redcap to the wall so forcefully that plaster fell. Redcap got back up and attacked but DeFoe dodged its scratches easily and shot Poison Fang from both hands. Redcap stumbled backwards and, with a strong burst of Augerfrost, it was absorbed back into the suit's amulet. DeFoe turned on the suit, his hot coal eyes burning, ready to finish the job.

"That is enough, DeFoe," he heard the Professor say from behind. "Return, Pontish."

Pontish was reabsorbed and DeFoe fell to the floor, panting.

The Professor glanced at the suit. "Take that titan back to the training room and work with him. I didn't expect Redcap to stand much of a chance against DeFoe, but it was only materialized for thirty seconds! Disgraceful!"

"Yes sir," the suit said and left.

DeFoe, catching his breath, sat on his knees, facing the Professor. The Professor drummed his fingers on his desk as he stared at DeFoe.

"You certainly can fight," the Professor mentioned.

"Thank you. I have trained for—"

"I do not appreciate your sudden outbursts of speech," the Professor cut him off. "Speak only when you are spoken to."

"DeFoe lowered his head. "Yes sir," he said quietly.

The Professor gave a sharp nod as if to say: "That's better." And then called in two suits who had been waiting just outside the door. "Come in here and summon your titans."

They stepped inside and held up their amulets. Was DeFoe's purpose only to perform stupid tricks for the Professor? Before he could become indignant, he heard the suits call out:

"Minedrone!"

"Redcap!"

The titans appeared and DeFoe stood and faced them.

"Attack, Pontish!" the wind blew around him again and DeFoe wondered if he could handle transforming so soon after catching his breath. He found out he could when he merged with the titan once again.

Both titans lunged for him and he fought. With some well placed blows and bursts of magic, the titans fell and retreated into their amulets. DeFoe stood alone in the recent battlefield breathing, tense, ready to tear the amulets' owners apart at a word from the Professor. The spells had sapped his energy a little, but not significantly. He expected Pontish to be called away any moment, but the Professor reclined in his chair without the slightest evidence of moving.

"Let them be, DeFoe," he said and then added, looking at the suits, "Be gone!"

The suits left quickly and shut the door. DeFoe stood in the center of the room, unsure of his next task, silent, but for the sound of the wind rushing around his body. Rassimov approached the Professor quietly and the Professor said something to him under his breath. Rassimov bowed politely at the waist and then walked past DeFoe and stood in front of the door with his arms crossed.

What was DeFoe supposed to do? He approached the Professor and opened his mouth to speak, but only the sound of hissing wind came out.

"Stay where you are, DeFoe, until I say you can move." The Professor told him curtly.

DeFoe obeyed and stood, looking anxiously around the room in confusion, half expecting something to attack him from the shadows.

They remained that way for fifteen minutes and DeFoe began to grow tired, as if he was the one keeping the titan materialized, but try as he might, he could not make it retreat. Finally, the Professor called Pontish back and the titan was reabsorbed into the amulet. The tightness released DeFoe and he fell to his hands and knees, breathing hard.

"He probably could have withstood more," the Professor told Rassimov.

"Now we know he can stay transformed for fifteen minutes at least," Rassimov mentioned. "Do you want to make sure all the amulets work or should I take him to his cell?"

"Cell? But what have I done to deserve imprisonment?" DeFoe whined, irritated at these stunts enjoyed at his expense.

"DeFoe," the Professor interrupted. "What had we just discussed?"

"I'm sorry, sir," DeFoe apologized, lowering his head quickly; alarmed that he had defied the Professor so blatantly. "It won't happen again."

"I hate liars," the Professor said in a threatening tone.

"With the recent events, it-it slipped my mind."

"In other circumstances, I would have you terminated."

"Forgive me, sir."

"Stand up," the Professor commanded. DeFoe got to his feet. "Two of them work; let's see if the other five do."


	6. Seeds of Doubt

"Return to me!" the Professor shouted.

The seventh and final titan was sucked back into its amulet inside DeFoe and DeFoe fell flat onto the floor, greedily gasping for air. He had transformed into all of the titans now and felt like he had run a marathon without water or performed a spell that used every last bit of energy clinging to him. He lay on the floor, coughing, his whole body warm and numb.

"Go ahead and put him in his cell." The Professor said. "He won't be of any more use to me tonight."

Rassimov called the guards in and they approached DeFoe quickly. They lifted his limp form off the floor and tied a gag around his mouth as they dragged him to the door.

"Tell Dr. Reese that I want him back here first thing in the morning," the Professor instructed.

"It shall be done," Rassimov replied, following them out.

The suits were practically carrying DeFoe, since his legs were too overworked to walk the stairs by themselves. They were going down into the basement again, but then turned down a different hallway, towards the part used as a dungeon where they kept people for special purposes, though DeFoe could not imagine what type of people the Professor would need to keep. Information could be retrieved with his mind reading spell and everyone else would be disposed off.

Maybe they are people like me. He thought. As they passed each door, however, he noticed that it wasn't really a dungeon; it was more like barracks, probably for the newest suits.

They stopped at the door at the end of the hall and opened it. Inside were a sagging bed and a writing desk with a few books. Other than that, the small dimly lit room wasn't furbished. The suits pushed him inside and removed the gag.

"Don't bother trying to escape," Rassimov said. "These walls are protected by magic. The only way out is the door, and you'll never get through the guards." With that farewell, the door was shut and DeFoe was left to his thoughts.

He shuffled about the room for a moment before absently sitting on the edge of his bed, full of conflicting emotions and unsure how to organize them into thoughts. Had he been demoted or promoted? In the silence of his room, he heard the new recruits in the neighboring rooms, talking and occasionally laughing.

"So immature," he said. Being the head, he did not see the new recruits very often; lesser officers took care of their training and then gave the best ones to him for missions. Grier had been an exception; he had so much obvious potential that he had been placed right at DeFoe's elbow since he first joined the organization – until he betrayed him and stole his position.

"Mark my words, Grier," DeFoe growled, "Dante Vale will fall and then I'll have my revenge on you. In fact, I already have. My position is even higher than the one you stole and again I am your superior. But this time you can't remove me."

He had just barely finished speaking when the doorknob turned and the door opened to Dr. Reese and Austin. The surgeon seemed pleasant enough, but Austin scowled and his body was rigid.

What bit him? DeFoe wondered humorously.

"How did your meeting with the Professor go?" asked Dr. Reese.

DeFoe pushed his misgivings aside as he pushed up from the bed. "Perfectly," he replied. "All seven amulets work."

Dr. Reese seemed surprised by his answer. "You certainly seem optimistic," he noted.

"Why shouldn't I be?" DeFoe asked as Dr. Reese approached him.

"Well, last time we were together, you were determined to escape and said-" Dr. Reese glanced out of the corner of his eye at Austin, standing sternly over by the door. "Uh… some… very depressing things." He concluded.

DeFoe waved him away and faced the wall, gripping his arms behind his back. "I was not thinking of the advantages," he said. "After all, who would not relish such an opportunity?"

"I can name a few," Dr. Reese said under his breath.

"Only a fool would say such things."

"You'd better hope I'm no fool, since I'm the one who performed such an irregular and tender operation on you." He replied. "Ever Fight. Should take care of your healing from now on, as far as rejuvenation, but I ought to Deep Heal that final gash in your back. Come lie down."

DeFoe obeyed and the surgeon lay one hand on DeFoe's chest, the other on his stomach and spoke "Deep Heal." The last remaining pain in DeFoe's back disappeared in a flush of comforting heat. He sat up once it was over.

"Remove your shirt and coat, please," Dr. Reese directed.

DeFoe shed his coat and pulled is shirt off and lay it folded on the bed. Dr. Reese opened the black leather bag he had brought with him and removed an armband and pump. He strapped it around DeFoe's bicep and watched the pressure gauge as he pumped it up.

"Blood pressure's good…" he said, almost to himself as he let it deflate. Dr. Reese loosened the edge of the bandage and began to unwrap DeFoe's torso.

"You shouldn't be bleeding anymore," he said as he pulled it away. "Austin, would you take this dirty bandage off of our hands?"

"Yes, sir," Austin replied gruffly and took the bandage. He left the room to throw it away in the proper place.

Dr. Reese sighed as he inspected the wound in DeFoe's back. "Every time I see Austin, he's more hostile. I think something is troubling him."

"Your guess is as good as mine," DeFoe replied as Dr. Reese handed him his cotton half-sleeve shirt. DeFoe pulled it on and when he had, the surgeon pressed his fingers to DeFoe's wrist and looked at his watch.

What was the matter with this doctor? He had been all for the Professor's new project yesterday, but now he almost sounded like he was trying to persuade DeFoe to be discontent. And that suit was only stranger; though he hardly spoke except for the occasion and harsh "Yes, sir," Dr. Reese was right in noting how angry Austin seemed to be becoming. Maybe they were both crazy; any surgeon willing to perform such a dark experiment must be, though DeFoe felt that if he had been the surgeon and Reese the victim, he would have done the same. Who knew what was wrong with Austin, and who cared? If the boy truly were out of his mind, the Professor would eventually wipe it or dispose of him. Only one thing was certain: neither the suit nor surgeon had qualms carrying out their duties; DeFoe was determined not to either.

"DeFoe," Dr. Reese said in a hushed tone as he concentrated on his wristwatch. "Suppose you needed to get out. …Not wanted to, but say it was a lethal matter."

"Anyone willing to try must be a fool," DeFoe answered. "The Organization owns its servants."

"So, you would be willing to die if the Professor assigned you to do so?"

DeFoe hesitated, and then scowled at the surgeon. "You're trying to get me to say something against the Professor, aren't you? You're trying to get me to condemn myself; it will never happen."

"I wasn't; I was simply making conversation," Dr. Reese muttered.

"Dangerous conversation."

Dr. Reese chuckled quietly. "Look how the tables have turned, DeFoe. Yesterday, you were the one spouting treasonous talk."

"I was not in my right mind," DeFoe protested. "I've reacted terribly to anesthetic since I was a boy."

"Or perhaps it simply caused you to say what you really thought instead of nonsense," Dr. Reese muttered under his breath.

Suddenly, Austin, as sour as ever, entered the room.

"I'll be back in an hour with dinner," Dr. Reese said as he wrapped up the blood pressure reader and put it into his bag. "I'd ask what you'd like to eat, but I think the Organization will feed you what they feed you regardless."

"See you then," DeFoe said as he pushed his coat off the bed and stretched out upon it. Dr. Reese and Austin walked to the door, but before they had reached it, the surgeon looked over his shoulder at the tired figure of DeFoe lying still on the bed.

"One more thing, DeFoe."

DeFoe picked up his head to look at Dr. Reese, expecting to hear about some exercise he was to do every night to keep the amulets in shape or something.

"A friend is a good thing." Dr. Reese opened the door and left, Austin following him out and closing the door.

DeFoe let his head fall back onto the pillow and he rubbed his eyes under his glasses with one hand still trembling slightly from exhaustion. What was that supposed to mean?

"Sir," he heard Austin say outside. "What is his purpose?"

"Defense probably," he heard Dr. Reese answer. Either Austin left it at that or they had walked out of the range of DeFoe's hearing.

"Ever Fight," DeFoe whispered with authority. His body glowed orange and the exhaustion left him.

The dinner brought for DeFoe wasn't the best, but it wasn't spoiled. DeFoe didn't feel like eating anyway. Once his body had calmed down and he was able to listen to it he noticed pressure inside himself that he could only attribute to the powerful presence of the amulets inside him. It wasn't a pressure like that of a balloon in danger of explosion, but more like the strain of standing on one's hands for a length of time, or traveling at a swift pace in a low gear. As uncomfortable as it was, DeFoe was thankful they were reasonably tame. Some of the more powerful titans were destructive even in their amulets. The Professor must have taken that into account when choosing the seven.

Dr. Reese and Austin hadn't stayed very long, DeFoe recollected as he lay in the dark on his bed staring at the ceiling. Austin's malice had shifted a little, a tinge of sadness brushing the edges of his expressions.

"What does it feel like?" he had asked DeFoe. It was then that he discovered the pressure. Thanks a lot, Austin.

DeFoe didn't know how he would be able to get to sleep. Tomorrow, he would see the Professor again, and he wondered what he would be required to do. The idea of the Professor being able to dictate when he morphed and what he did once changed disturbed him. But what was there to be done about it?

"Suppose you needed to get out. ...Say it were a lethal matter." Dr. Reese had said.

DeFoe was losing his nerve; the mask of confidence he had carefully glued into place was cracking and falling away, piece by piece, bearing his fears to the air.

"So, you would be willing to die if the Professor assigned you to do so?" Would it eventually come to that?

No, DeFoe thought. I would not die for him; I would escape first. By the time he realized he was going to die, however, it would be too late, wouldn't it? The Professor was no simpleton; he would handle it tactfully. However, it would have to be a dire situation for DeFoe to be done in since he was so valuable to the Professor now. He would wipe his mind before he killed him.

But I will not let that happen either, DeFoe promised himself.

"A friend is a good thing." What had Dr. Reese meant by that? DeFoe knew what it meant, but why did he say it?

DeFoe sighed heavily. All these thoughts would never let him get to sleep and it sounded like he had a tough day starting early the next morning.

"I don't make friends of my colleagues." He heard himself say.

"You don't have friends at all, DeFoe." Dante had replied.

It had always been a good thing, when he hadn't needed any. Though, what was the advantage of being alone when he was in a dark, guarded cell in the bowels of Prague awaiting a future out of his hands? He couldn't muster an answer and stared blankly at the ceiling as memories battled in his mind through most of the night.


	7. A Delicate Balance Broken

Morning came rudely when Austin let a heavy hand fall suddenly on DeFoe's prostrate shoulder and, without any hush to his voice, told DeFoe to get up. DeFoe had half a mind to Touch Ram the suit into next Thursday, but for the sake of his relationship with the Organization, didn't.

He sat up, his body still tired from not getting enough sleep, leaned over and picked up his glasses from the floor.

"A knock at the door would have sufficed," DeFoe said, removing the band from his hair, combing his back with his fingers and replacing it. "I've trained myself to be a very light sleeper."

"I was just following orders," Austin replied.

"Grier told you to come in and startle me like that?"

"Dr. Reese," the suit answered.

Seriously, this surgeon became stranger as time went on.

"The Professor wants to see you," Austin mentioned. There was that strange concern playing in Austin's hard features again.

"Do I not get breakfast beforehand? Surely he will have me do some strenuous activities," DeFoe pointed out. "Strenuous activities," he thought. Well said, DeFoe. Austin tossed him a protein bar. DeFoe caught it and stood. "Fair enough," he sighed and followed Austin to the Professor's quarters. On the way, he unwrapped and ate his breakfast.

As they approached the door, Dr. Reese exited through it and caught sight of DeFoe chewing the last mouthful of his meal substitute. The guards at the door were taken aback when they saw DeFoe.

"Why isn't he gagged?" One of them demanded.

"There is no need," Dr Reese replied, quickly before they apprehended DeFoe. "He won't try to escape."

The guards looked form Dr. Reese, to Austin to DeFoe. Finally, the retreated and told the Professor of DeFoe's presence.

"Well, send him in!" was the reply. "And have Dr. Reese and his helper come as well."

"Yes sir," the guard said and then stood out of the way for DeFoe.

DeFoe looked between the guards as he walked slowly, but when he was almost through, the guard on the left shoved him inside. Dr. Reese and Austin followed behind and the door was shut behind them.

DeFoe stood awkwardly by the door for a moment. He looked up and saw the Professor sitting at his desk daintily eating a strawberry crepe. DeFoe approached him and sank to his knees.

"I am here, sir." DeFoe said with head bowed.

"Hm," the Professor mused as he wiped his hands on a silk napkin. "I do believe this operation is taming your tongue, DeFoe. This entrance is a far cry from your behavior last night."

"I better understand my purpose at your side," DeFoe replied.

"Excellent," the Professor said taking a gulp of his tea. He then addressed Austin and Dr. Reese, who had knelt as well. "Stand by the door. Rassimov and Grier are on a mission against the Foundation, and you two will take their place in my presence until they return."

"Yes sir," the suit and surgeon answered.

"We'll be taking a trip to Berlin, one of the Organization's key bases. We will leave after DeFoe and I practice."

"Yes sir," Austin and Dr. Reese replied again.

The Professor pushed up to his feet and told DeFoe to stand likewise. DeFoe obeyed, acutely aware of the pressure inside of him. The Professor held out his hands and, despite himself, DeFoe's heart raced.

"How about we try two together," the Professor said. DeFoe resisted the urge to gasp. "You look uncomfortable, DeFoe. I thought you said you understood your purpose."

"I-I do," DeFoe answered quickly. He looked to the floor and clenched his hands.

"But you're frightened," the Professor finished DeFoe's thought.

DeFoe looked up in alarm. "No! Never!" he protested. "I will do whatever is necessary for the good of the Organization." As he spoke, he glanced at Dr. Reese; Dr. Dr. Reese frowned and looked away. Austin shuffled his feet uncomfortably.

"Good. Because I'm going to create a hurricane with you. Pontish!" The Professor shouted. "Aquarius!"

DeFoe's body tightened and his breathing became strained. The wind rushed around him from Pontish, but something was bubbling up from underneath, and it was too much to handle. DeFoe fell to his hands and knees as his body tried to transform and the force ebbed.

"Transform! Now!" the Professor bellowed when he noticed the titans giving up.

The titans obeyed and the pressure, wind – and now water! – overpowered DeFoe. He released a shrill cry; he had merged with two titans. The water was underneath the layer of air and it swirled with the wind.

"Make this place a storm!" the Professor directed.

DeFoe, now being thoroughly lost in his head, rose from the ground, to the ceiling. He spread his arms and rain began to fall. Wind tore around the room and lightning flashed in jagged strikes along the ceiling.

"Marvelous, isn't it doctor?" the Professor commented, his face upturned in the rain.

Dr. Reese shielded his eyes and watched the spectacle.

"Come down, DeFoe."

DeFoe obeyed and his feet touched the ground again.

"With Poison Fang, I can create the most brutal attack the Foundation has ever seen: caustic rain. It will be like fighting a storm." The Professor raved, pleased with his own genius.

The titans were called to retreat and not a moment too soon, for DeFoe had thought he would pass out. He fell to the floor, nearly unconscious. This was not like keeping titans materialized; this was like keeping grounded a house that a tornado wanted very much to blow away and smash to pieces. He hoped training was done, because there was no way to coax another transformation out of him. He struggled to his knees, but had to use his hands as support lest his shaking, spent body fall over backwards.

"Get him up," the Professor directed the surgeon and suit. "My limousine is parked out back by the training facility. Put him in the back seat. We leave immediately for Berlin."

"Yes sir," Dr. Reese ad Austin complied as they helped DeFoe, still dazed, to his feet. They draped his arms over both of their shoulders and walked him out of the door.

"Still think this is a dream come true?" Dr. Reese whispered into his ear.

DeFoe refused to answer and did his best to walk. By the time they had arrived at the car, DeFoe could stand on his own legs, but his attendants helped him to walk anyway. Austin opened the door of the sleek, black limousine and DeFoe climbed in just as the Professor came from a different door in the side of the building.

"You two will come, as well," the Professor instructed. "In case things go badly."

"Yes, sir," Austin opened the door for the Professor. Once the Professor was seated, he closed the door and walked to the other side of the car to get in with the surgeon.

DeFoe leaned against the back of the seat, drawing deep breaths to calm his body.

"Ever Fight," he said and was instantly strengthened.

"Very resourceful, DeFoe," the Professor commented.

"Thank you, sir," DeFoe replied.

The worst was over; he was going on missions again, ranked just below the Professor himself. Soon, he would be sent against Dante Vale again and fighting where he should be.

It was a long and awkward car ride, and DeFoe was glad to arrive in Berlin. The "Speak Only When Spoken To" rule the Professor had implemented over DeFoe made it an uncomfortably silent ride as the Professor had nothing to say. When the chauffer pulled the limousine into the obscured driveway of an overgrown garden. Austin jumped out and opened the Professor's door. Dr. Reese helped DeFoe out by holding his arm, but DeFoe pulled it away.

"I am stronger than you think," he whispered harshly.

Dr. Reese let go of his arm, but mouthed the words: "Are you?"

"Come to my side, DeFoe," the Professor commanded once he was out of the car and leaning casually on his cane.

DeFoe obeyed with a stern glance at Dr. Reese. The man was determined to ruin his morale! "From now on, you stay on my right side at all times. Woe to you if ever I glance to my right and you are not there."

"I will not leave your side, sir," DeFoe said.

"Come; we have work to do," the Professor said as he walked up the narrow garden path. DeFoe took pains to stay directly to the right of the Professor and Austin and Dr. Reese followed behind.

DeFoe wondered what his duties would be; going to secret meetings with the Professor, training so hard in such frightful ways. He must be going against the Foundation, solo. Or maybe he would be an assassin sent into the Foundation to sabotage it silently. It was hard to believe that he had been fired less than a week ago.

They walked into a large conference room with a long table of dark wood down the center. Seated were many figures in the Organization that DeFoe had read about but scarcely seen: men and women with as much power and position as Rassimov, who had been stationed all over the world. The Professor took a seat at the head of the table and DeFoe stood at his side. No chair for him? He glanced around and realized that there were no seats provided for Reese and Austin, who stood just behind the Professor. At least DeFoe got to stand at the table instead of being required to stay away from it.

The meeting began shortly; they discussed what to do about several recent intelligence reports on the Foundation. It sounded like the Organization was planning to attack the Foundation outright.

This must be my purpose! DeFoe thought in excitement. As the meeting went on, he expected the Professor to explain how DeFoe would fit into all of this, but he never did. Not even when someone at the table asked directly about him.

"If I'm not mistaken, isn't that DeFoe standing to your right? I thought he was dismissed for reckless behavior."

"You might call it recycling," the Professor explained. "I removed him from his previous position and turned him into my bodyguard."

"If I may, sir," another spoke up, "If he was dismissed for reckless behavior, he won't be a very capable bodyguard."

"I have taken care of that, with the help of Dr. Reese and his behavior seems to have been tamed."

That was the last he was addressed the entire day as they finished the meeting and walked around the base. No one asked his opinion, the Professor never spoke of him and DeFoe never offered anything for fear of breaking the "Speak when spoken to" rule.

At the end of the day, they climbed back into the limousine and were driven back to Prague. The Professor said nothing as they exited the car and entered his study. The Professor sat behind his desk and began writing something. DeFoe stood still, itching to do something. He glanced at Austin and Dr. Reese several times, trying to guess their thoughts. Dr. Reese seemed to be thinking, "This is all you can expect," while Austin seemed like he'd rather be anywhere but there.

After nearly a half hour of silence and standing, DeFoe dared to speak.

"Sir," he began.

"DeFoe," the Professor snapped," What did I say about talking?"

"I know sir, but I just wanted to know what my new duties will be."

"To do what you are doing now and to protect me, if it comes to that."

DeFoe was shocked. "That's all I'm here for?" he asked.

"That is your purpose," the Professor answered.

Anger at this injustice rose in DeFoe. "I'm just supposed to stand here and watch you write?"

"Curb your tongue!" the Professor ordered.

"I should be out destroying the Huntik Foundation!" DeFoe shouted, riding his emotions wherever they took him.

"I will not stand for this!"

"This is why you put me through that torture? To become your guard dog?"

"DeFoe!" the Professor bellowed, louder than DeFoe had ever heard him yell before.

DeFoe shrunk back in horror at what he had just done.

"You have dug your own grave, DeFoe!" the Professor fumed.

DeFoe ran to the center of the room; this was the time to escape. He concentrated on the griffin titan inside of himself.

"Emerge, Grifitus!" he shouted frantically. To his dismay, nothing happened. He called out several other names but none would respond to him. I have, indeed, dug my grave! He thought as he looked for another way out.

By this time the Professor was simply livid. "Seize him and bring him here!" the Professor demanded. The suits that were never far from hearing rushed through the door and grabbed DeFoe roughly and tied a gag over his mouth. The suits dragged him to the Professor who had stood and stretched out a glowing left hand. DeFoe began to sweat, realizing the Professor was going to use the mind-wiping spell on him. He struggled viciously against the suits, trying everything he knew to get away, but the group moved him within inches of the Professor's hand.

"No!" came the loud clear voice from across the room; it was Austin, running towards DeFoe.

Dr. Reese chased after the rash suit with a panicked expression. "Sir!" he panted, moving between the Professor and DeFoe. "What my assistant means, is a mind wipe will most definitely damage the amulets, possibly even resulting in their memory being wiped instead of DeFoe's."

The Professor was angry, but he trusted the words of the surgeon.

"Let me take him back to my lab. I think the problem can be taken care of medically. He will be submissive by tomorrow."

"Very well," the Professor consented and withdrew his hand, the glowing disappearing. "Do whatever it takes to rid this traitor of his will. And if it cannot be done, kill him!"

"It shall be done, Professor," Dr. Reese promised, bowing low at the waist.

"Take this dog wherever the surgeon directs you!" he commanded the suits that gripped DeFoe. "Get him out of my sight!"

"This way," Dr. Reese directed as he began towards the door. He grabbed Austin's shoulder and subtly led him out as the group of suits followed close behind.

They exited the room and started down the hall and stairs once again. DeFoe breathed hard through the cloth gag as he fought against the mass of suits that held him firmly, despite his flailing. He didn't know what would happen; all he knew was that he wouldn't be able to stop it.

"Take him to my laboratory," Dr. Reese instructed the suits sternly. They obeyed and Dr. Reese led them to the door of the dark room DeFoe had awoken in after his surgery. What were they going to do to him?

Dr. Reese dug a key out of his coat pocket and unlocked the door. He walked inside and the suits followed him.

"Remove his coat and lay him on the operating table," Dr. Reese instructed as he pulled on a pair of surgical gloves.

The suits yanked off his coat and slammed him onto the operating table, holding him there with incredible strength. Time seemed to repeat itself as DeFoe watched Dr. Reese prepare an IV. As the surgeon approached, he stuck the needle into his forearm.

DeFoe glared at him; what, then, was all that garbage about friends? He had entertained timid ideas that maybe Dr. Reese had been implying that he was DeFoe's friend, that he was a good thing. As DeFoe began to go under, and his fight died away, he knew he had been mistaken.

"He's helpless. Now all of you but Austin, get out! I need to concentrate." Dr. Reese was all business. The suits let go of DeFoe and exited except for Austin.

As DeFoe fell asleep, he remembered Dr. Reese removing the IV and whispering quickly to Austin. Austin replied something along the lines of: "Yes, I'm with you."


	8. Flight to the Foundation

"DeFoe!" came the sharp, nagging whisper. "Hurry! Wake up!"

DeFoe opened his eyes drowsily and the white light overhead morphed into Dr. Reese and Austin watching him. DeFoe groaned and grabbed the place on his arm where the IV had been, which was now wrapped tightly with a thin strip of bandage.

"Sorry for the anesthetic, but we had to make it look convincing." Dr. Reese said as he helped DeFoe sit up.

"We need to get out of here before someone discovers us," Austin prodded.

"What – what is going on?" DeFoe asked bewildered.

"We're saving your neck," Dr. Reese replied. "There is a back door out of this room that leads up a few flights of stairs to the street. The Organization thinks I'm operating on you, so we need to leave immediately."

Austin helped him stand and Dr. Reese threw him his coat. DeFoe did not understand what was happening. This Organization surgeon who had probably performed dozens of shady operations on others and this suit, dedicated to the Professor, were helping him escape.

"Why are you doing this? Are you going to use me to start your own Organization?"

The surgeon gave him a long hard look. "You are of no use to me; you yourself saw that no one is able to summon the titans in you but the Professor. No; I do it because I am fed up with the Professor's constant spreading of evil. When it was just the greedy snatching of titans before the Foundation, I could treat it like a game. But what he did to you – what I did to you... I can't ignore that. I won't fight for slavery."

DeFoe looked at Austin, who was standing still, like usual, with a stern, pained look. "Are the reasons the same for you?"

"Yes," Austin replied. "The Professor does not deserve my loyalty and I refuse to give it any longer."

DeFoe didn't expect to hear that come from the mouth of any suit. He dawned his coat. "As you can imagine, I agree with you." He said.

Dr. Reese nodded. "Good. Let's get out of here."

The three men hurried to the back door hidden in the shadows; if Dr. Reese had not led them, they would have been hard pressed to find it. It was opened with a spell whispered by Dr. Reese that DeFoe had never heard before. Inside were switchbacks of thin staircases. Austin closed the door behind them and Reese sealed it before they began climbing the stairs as quickly as they could without making too much sound.

The staircase spit them out of a deep crack in the side of a building in Prague. The sun had just set and the light left over was beginning to ebb. Austin gripped DeFoe by the arm as they watched Dr. Reese hail a taxicab. When they were seated, Dr. Reese instructed the driver to take them to the airport.

No one spoke during the car ride except when Dr. Reese politely answered the driver's small talk. They were still dangerously close to the Organization base and a misplaced word might spell their doom. Perhaps they had already discovered their escape and were in the city. DeFoe felt pretty confident about his ability against the suits, since his knowledge of spells was quite extensive. However, if the Professor came – would he risk that? All he would need to do is get into earshot of DeFoe and all hope of escape would be lost.

DeFoe felt the urge to cover his ears, partly expecting the Professor to be waiting for them on the next street corner. Covering his ears wouldn't make a difference, would it? It wasn't he that was obeying the Professor's voice, but rather the amulets and he couldn't very well cover their ears. DeFoe shifted uncomfortably; he felt very exposed.

The cab arrived at the airport without any trouble. Dr. Reese was able to put on enough ease to cover for all of them as he paid the driver, thanked him and strolled alongside the other two.

"Wipe that fugitive's expression of your face, or security won't let you on the plane," Dr. Reese whispered to DeFoe without losing his carefree charade as they entered the shortest line at the ticket counter.

"Where are we going?" DeFoe inquired quietly.

"You'll find out. And use your head and think rationally," the surgeon answered as their turn came.

Dr. Reese and Austin showed their passports and DeFoe dug in his pockets, hoping his was still there. He had gotten into the habit of keeping it in his pocket at all times because he was always traveling across borders. His fingers fell across a leather booklet and he pulled it out. He handed the passport to the woman behind the counter and she handed the tickets to Dr. Reese. The passport was not even real, DeFoe recollected; he didn't remember what information the Organization had printed upon it, but he knew it wasn't his. He wondered if the other two passports were fakes as well.

Dr. Reese bought three tickets for Vienna. DeFoe held in his comments and questions until they had walked away from the desk.

"Vienna? Are you insane?" he whispered with as much feeling as he could. Vienna was the site of the main Huntik Foundation base. Where Gugenheim was.

"DeFoe, really. Do you think you'll be safe anywhere else? The Professor can track you and once he finds you, nothing can be done. They are they only ones who will be able to protect you. Use your head, DeFoe. Think logically, for once," Dr. Reese hissed.

"They are the enemy!"

"Of the Organization, not of you."

DeFoe was hot with anger, but deep down he knew the surgeon spoke the truth. So he sulked, saying nothing more until he had to convince the guard at the security gate that a bolt in his spine was setting off the metal detector and not a concealed weapon.

DeFoe sank into his seat on the plane soon afterwards, his head swimming with the thought of walking up to the doors of the Foundation, looking for shelter. He couldn't wrap his mind around it. He, DeFoe scourge of the Foundation, was fleeing to them for refuge. How would he do it? Reese would probably do most of the talking; he had so far. That would be smart, or DeFoe might blow his only chance with his smart mouth.

I would rather humiliate myself than let the Professor wipe my mind. He thought. Even if it is to the Foundation.

The plane landed and as the three men exited through the double glass doors of the airport onto the Vienna street, Dr. Reese laid a comforting hand on DeFoe's shoulder.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Like I am about to shame myself before the world," DeFoe answered.

"I meant about the amulets."

"Oh," DeFoe realized. "I feel pressure like they and my body are repelling magnets. It is less since we left Prague, though."

"It is probably that your body is not used to having that much power inside it."

DeFoe was indignant. "I have plenty of power! I have mastered so many spells—"

"Seven amulets trapped in your body that belong to another man – especially one as powerful as the Professor – is an entirely different power, and not one you'll want to keep around for very long.

DeFoe was subdued and looked away. "So, do you know where the Foundation base is?" he asked.

"Of course." Dr. Reese replied. "Who doesn't?"

"I don't," Austin muttered.

"The Foundation doesn't do a good job at hiding their base; that's one thing the Organization did better. However, it is so secure that a direct attack would be futile," Dr. Reese said as they walked down the street. "It's actually not that far from the airport." He looked over his shoulder at DeFoe, who walked a little behind him. "Once we're in and you're safe, we'll go into surgery and I'll remove them all. I promise." The surgeon's eyes were hard and determined.

"Sounds like a good plan," DeFoe replied.

"It is, if we can get there before the Organization catches up to us."

"There is no way they could stop us. I'm sure they didn't even notice our absence for a good hour or more," DeFoe pointed out.

"Do you think the Professor would come?" Austin asked.

"He never did on any of the important missions I was in charge of; not even the ones he deemed most dire," DeFoe answered. "Surely, he will have contacted Grier and maybe sent Rassimov. But, no, he would never come. Not this far away from shelter."

"For your sake, I hope you're right," Dr. Reese said as they approached the main Foundation building, which was disguised as the beautiful house of a rich citizen. They stopped fifty meters away.

"I think you should let me do the talking; at least for now. They don't know of me, but they have learned to hate you." Dr. Reese explained.

"I see your point," DeFoe replied.

"And Austin, perhaps you should take off your sunglasses and jacket, and maybe your tie too. That's better; now you don't look so suit-like. DeFoe, you should probably stand near the back, just so that they don't jump to conclusions when they see us. No doubt there are security cameras trained on the front steps, so even before we see any people, act friendly."

Dr. Reese straightened his shirt - his lab coat draped over his arm. They walked up the short stone steps and stood at the double oak doors.

This is all so wrong, thought DeFoe as Dr. Reese rapped the doorknocker.

In a few moments, the door opened to a butler – or, rather, a Huntik guard disguised as a butler. He probably had five or more amulets hanging around his neck under his white, pressed shirt.

"What is your business here?" he asked politely.

"Good evening," Dr. Reese began. "My name is Reese. We are here to seek the help of the Huntik Foundation. Whom should I speak to?"

The butler peered around Dr. Reese at Austin and then started at the sight of DeFoe. "What is that man doing here?" he demanded, pointing.

"He is why I've come. It is urgent that I speak with an authority immediately. We've escaped from the Organization and they will likely be upon us before midnight," Reese explained, a plea under the surface of his business voice.

"Or you could be trying to get inside as an attack," the man countered, crossing his arms.

"We wouldn't have brought DeFoe then, would we? Since everyone at the Foundation recognizes him so easily."

"I suppose not," the butler concluded. "Wait here." He closed the door and they heard it lock.

DeFoe exhaled a short, scoffing laugh. "They won't let us in. If Huntik agents came to me, I wouldn't let them in except to imprison."

"Hush!" Dr. Reese barked. "It is of utmost importance that we don't appear suspicious."

"There isn't much hope for that," DeFoe said as the doors opened again.

"Gugenheim has agreed to see you," the Foundation agent-butler relayed. As the doors opened fully, DeFoe became aware of more people – undoubtedly each with several amulets in their pockets and around their necks. The three refugees entered and the doors closed.

"Before you come any further, you must hand all your amulets to me," the butler continued.

Austin handed over two amulets and Reese, one. They – for the Foundation agents had closed in – turned to DeFoe when he didn't produce any.

"I don't have them," DeFoe explained, his ears burning with shame.

"It's true," a woman said. "Dante retrieved them almost two weeks ago."

"Dante—" DeFoe's angry words were cut short when Dr. Reese squeezed his shoulder with an unfriendly strength.

"Then what is that power I feel on you?" the butler asked skeptically.

"That's the problem, sir," Dr. Reese spoke up. "The Professor performed an experiment on him and inlaid his amulets inside DeFoe."

The butler paused, thinking. "Search him," he directed a couple of the men closest to him.

They obeyed and began emptying his pockets and patting him down; it was all DeFoe could do not to Touch Ram them. When they found no amulets, the "butler" was better inclined to listen.

"If what you say is true," he began, "Then this matter is serious indeed. Follow me and I'll lead you to Gugenheim."

They, and a large number of others, walked down a hallway, stairs, another hallway, more stairs and another hallway before they reached Gugenheim's office. The behavior was very different in the Foundation than it was in the Organization. There were no guards at the single office door and when they approached it, the "butler" walked in without knocking, as if the head of the Foundation did not mind being disturbed. Soon DeFoe, Dr. Reese and Austin were invited inside and the door was closed behind them.

The room was large, but not close like the Professor's chambers. Gugenheim's office looked like just that – an office. A large, mahogany desk dominated the room with a computer and papers, a filing cabinet, a large bookcase, pictures of his family, sentimental tokens… in fact, the only thing that separated this from other offices was the Holotome on his desk and the large spell-enforced safe against the wall. DeFoe and the other two stood in the center of the room, feeling wretchedly out of place in such a cheerful room. DeFoe felt he must look like he had just broken a terrible fever. There was no way he would look very presentable after all he had gone through. Though, that might have been good evidence on their side.

Gugenheim stood behind his desk with a solemn expression. "I'm told you three escaped from the Organization," he said and looked at DeFoe. "Even you."

DeFoe wasn't sure whether the last phrase was a statement or a question.

"We got him out and brought him here," Dr. Reese spoke up. "And we think that only the Huntik Foundation can help him."

Gugenheim sat in his chair. "I never expected an Organization man to say that," he commented. "But sit down. Let's have the whole story and then I'll see if we can or not."

Two chairs were against the wall and Defoe and Dr. Reese pulled them closer to the desk and seated themselves; Austin stood rigidly behind them.

"Isn't there another chair in here?" Gugenheim inquired as he twisted about in search of one.

"I am fine standing, sir," Austin replied.

"Whoever is listening through the crack in the door!" Gugenheim called. "Get this man a chair, would you?" A chair was slipped bashfully inside the room and footsteps were heard leading away. Austin pulled it closer and sat down. "They're all interested, you know, to find out what you are doing here, DeFoe. Though they shouldn't eavesdrop." he continued in good humor.

"It is important that something happens quickly, because the Organization will be upon this base before midnight, and probably much sooner," Dr. Reese said.

"Well, I can't help you until I know what is going on," Gugenheim said leaning back in his chair, ready to listen.

Dr. Reese explained their predicament, since he had a broader view of what really happened, with a few interjections from DeFoe about the merging experience. The head of the Foundation listened intently and nodded, his fingers laced under his nose.

"The Professor's bond with these titans is strong," Dr. Reese concluded," And are no doubt acting as a homing device, leading the Organization here. If anyone in the world can stand against the Organization, it is the Foundation."

"I see," Gugenheim said, his brow tense as he assessed the situation. "So you want the Foundation to shelter DeFoe here until what?"

"I don't know. What I do know is that I need to get him into surgery and removed those amulets as quickly as possible." Dr. Reese replied.

"We have an infirmary."

"That will do."

"How many amulets did the Professor have you implant?"

"Seven."

"Seven!" Gugenheim was breathless. He looked at DeFoe with concern. "Seven of the Professor's amulets welded to your spine? I am amazed you haven't been torn to shreds by the sheer power!"

What if that's what the pressure is? DeFoe thought fearfully. He was determined not to let himself shrink before the Foundation, regardless.

"I am handling it just fine. Better than most; better than any Huntik agent I'll bet—"

Dr. Reese coughed rudely.

"If you are doing so well, why did you leave the Organization in the first place?" Gugenheim asked, half challenging, half teasing.

"The Professor refused to recognize my potential," DeFoe replied.

"So you would rather we kept the titans inside of you?" Gugenheim asked.

"I never said that," DeFoe quietly countered, looking away.

"Gugenheim," the voice came before there was a body to match it. A small, well concealed door by the bookcase opened and a man steppe through, holding a file. "I found it," he continued, "but it has a peculiar smell that I think might be a clue to where it comes from originally—" the man in the tan trench coat stopped when he realized there were others in Gugenheim's office.

His eyes trained on DeFoe and DeFoe's eyes were like flint in returning the glare.

"Dante Vale," growled DeFoe.


	9. The Organization Attacks

The shock to DeFoe of meeting Dante could not have gone over well, but a precarious balance of peace might have been upheld in the office. However, when Dante crouched instinctively into a defensive stance, DeFoe jumped to his feet and held a hand out.

"Poison Fang!" He shouted with rage. A stream of green power flew from his hand and hit the bookcase where Dante had been before he ducked.

"DeFoe! Stop!" Dr. Reese shouted grabbing his arms and forcing them behind his back.

DeFoe broke loose and stepped to the other side of the room. Dante Vale was cornered and at such close range, a well-placed shot would be fatal. He charged another Poison Fang and aimed at the enemy; Dante was charging a spell as well.

Before DeFoe had finished saying, "Poison," Dr. Reese stood between DeFoe and his target. DeFoe was taken aback, but then scowled.

"Get out of the way!" he demanded.

"You are cutting off your only chance!" Dr. Reese reasoned.

"Dante Vale is not only the enemy of the Organization, but also of me personally! I've been waiting for a rematch like this for too long."

"If you fight the Foundation, you'll have nowhere to go and then it will only be a few hours before the Professor has you and by morning you'll either be brainwashed or dead!"

DeFoe hesitated and heard Guggenheim quickly brief Dante on the situation.

What is more important? Revenge or life? He thought. DeFoe had waited for revenge on Dante for such a long time that it seemed ludicrous to abandon it at the whim of a mercenary surgeon. However, DeFoe imagined being captured by the Professor, who no doubt felt the hunger for revenge also, and being held in his presence by six suits, watching the Professor's mind-wiping hand draw closer… the Professor pressing his large hand quickly against DeFoe's forehead.

DeFoe gasped and returned from his imagination. In shame, he stopped his flow of power and hung his head.

"You made the right choice," Guggenheim said. He sighed as tensions fell and everyone sat except Dante who stood behind the desk.

"I am sorry about that," Dr. Reese apologized, "but you see—"

"We understand," Dante spoke up. "DeFoe has been trained to hate me. It's just his training acting up, isn't it?"

DeFoe realized that Dante knew the falsity he was speaking by the way Dante stared at him, yet he seemed to be welcoming DeFoe to agree with him. DeFoe was much older than Dante, so it was impossible to say that DeFoe had been trained to hate him. He had a reason for the statement, though. Could it be he was… giving him another chance? Dante Vale… was covering for him.

Dr. Reese looked at DeFoe when he didn't answer. "Isn't that right, DeFoe?"

"Yes," DeFoe replied, avoiding eye contact. "I suppose it is."

Guggenheim grunted. "I hope so. I'll let that one slip by, DeFoe, but if it happens again, I'm afraid we cannot help you."

"I understand," DeFoe said.

The clock on the bookshelf chimed nine times and everyone was reminded of the urgency of their situation.

"You had better get DeFoe down to the infirmary right away," Guggenheim stated.

"Thank you," Dr. Reese said as he stood. DeFoe, Austin and Guggenheim stood as well.

"Dante, would you show them to the infirmary?"

"Sure," Dante replied, walking to the office door. "Follow me."

As they left, Guggenheim opened his Holotome and began to speak with a man on the other end about doubling the guard at the entrances. Dante realized the urgency of the situation at least; DeFoe could commend him for that, but it was likely – and DeFoe stubbornly held to it – that Dante's sense of urgency was his only good point. Everything else about him screamed insolence, immaturity, arrogance and weakness. No, DeFoe would not tolerate this enemy. As soon as the situation changed, DeFoe was out of there.

To where? His reason asked. The Organization would not forget his betrayal; DeFoe would be a fugitive for the rest of his life, or at least the rest of the Professor's life. He sighed quietly and massaged the bridge of his nose, wondering despairingly what to do.

"You seem scared, DeFoe," Dante noted with satisfaction.

DeFoe scowled. "No, of course not. I am merely planning; something the Foundation seems to lack in." Dr. Reese gave him a stern look while Austin trailed behind, lost in his own thoughts.

"I wouldn't be pointing at others' bad planning, DeFoe," Dante said, glancing over his shoulder at the tense man. "It wasn't the Foundation who attached himself to an incredibly evil man and expected good to come of it."

DeFoe burned with rage. "Who, Dante Vale, is entitled to decide which side is evil?"

"The man exploits people and then kills them when they no longer serve his purposes," Dante replied, scowling. "Anyone with half a brain could see he is evil."

DeFoe started towards Dante but Dr. Reese stayed him.

"Let's try to keep peace, at least until this crisis is over with," Dr. Reese pleaded irritably. "In a little while, we'll be up to our necks in suits; we can't afford to be fighting ourselves."

"You're right," Dante agreed, smirking at DeFoe. "He just makes it so easy."

Dr. Reese restrained DeFoe from doing something he would regret.

Dante approached the doors at the end of the hallway and opened one of them. 'This is the infirmary." He explained, leading them inside.

Dr. Reese entered, looking around quickly at the hospital beds and curtains. DeFoe glanced at the doctors and patients who stared at him, confusion emanating from them like perspiration evaporating from skin.

"Would you like me to stay and keep guard?" Dante asked.

"No," Dr. Reese replied. "It's more important that the Organization doesn't make it inside."

"And I will protect him," Austin spoke up.

Dante looked at Austin curiously. "You are a suit, aren't you?"

"I was a suit," Austin corrected. "Not anymore."

"I know; don't get offended. It's just, you still act like one, even without the jacket and sunglasses," Dante said.

Austin was indignant, as was told only by the slight reddening of his face. "I will not take orders from the Professor. I will not betray Dr. Reese or DeFoe."

"But you don't promise to be loyal to the Foundation," Dante added.

"I will as long as the Foundation promises to protect DeFoe," Austin replied.

DeFoe had never heard a suit talk so much, especially not one as rigid as Austin; the boy had some moxy.

"We will," Dante said. "As long as he cooperates. You can relax, I was only playing with you to lighten the mood." He glanced at DeFoe. "I can see he learned his sense of humor from you."

"They don't teach men to be clowns in the Organization," DeFoe growled, but then grimaced. The pressure inside of him had suddenly grown.

"DeFoe," Dr. Reese said anxiously. "What is it?"

"The pressure is stronger." He didn't need to explain further; Dr. Reese knew exactly what he meant.

Suddenly an explosion shook the ceiling. The banter was forgotten and all four of them looked at the ceiling. Some of the patients asked what it was and hushed discussion was scattered around the room.

"They're already here," Dr. Reese pointed out.

DeFoe was nervous; they hadn't even started the operation yet!

"I need to get up there, then," Dante said hurriedly. "Get those amulets out of him as fast as you can," he directed as he ran out of the doors and down the hall.

DeFoe quickly removed his glasses, shirt and coat and lay on an empty bed. Dr. Reese set his medical bag on a table and began digging out tools as Austin rolled an IV stand closer to the bed.

The pressure inside remained at the new level. Or, rather, it remained at the old level, since it was pretty close to the intensity of being in the Organization Headquarters. Sweat began to percolate on DeFoe's brow. He felt very helpless and realized he could not do anything for himself. He had always prized his skill of self-preservation, how he had complete control over his own life and, by whatever means necessary, could survive anything. Now, he could do nothing; he had no more control over his life than he had control over the sun and it was disconcerting to feel as weak as he felt at that moment, completely dependent.

"Do you trust me, DeFoe?" Dr. Reese asked as he prepared an IV.

"I don't trust anyone," DeFoe replied. Then, after a pause, he added, "But I trust you the most."

Dr. Reese smiled thinly. "I wish I had been man enough to resist the Professor at the beginning and to save us all this mess. I'll do whatever it takes to fix my mistake."

DeFoe sighed, trying to relax his nerves. "I suppose I can't ask for more than that."

Dr. Reese inserted the needle and DeFoe quickly began to go under.

"Don't worry, DeFoe," Austin said, his face intense as stone. "I won't let them get you."

DeFoe laughed scornfully in his mind. One suit against the whole Organization. What could Austin really do? Austin seemed to believe that he could do something helpful, though, and turned towards the door, bracing for an attack. It felt nice to know that Austin meant to protect him, even if he would fail.

"Friends are good things." Dr. Reese had said. DeFoe watched Dr. Reese and Austin thoughtfully. So this was what friendship was. He didn't know if he liked it or not; the thought of vulnerability frightened him, but the thought of facing this situation alone frightened him still more. So, in a backwards way, he liked the company of the suit and surgeon.

Footsteps and shouting came echoing up the hallway beyond the doors. Dr. Reese stopped his preparation and watched the door. Austin became so stiff a flood couldn't have pushed him over. And what came pouring into the room was very much like a flood: a flood of ink with monsters at the front. When the doors were broken down, titans and suits poured in with Grier leading the charge.


	10. The Titan

Dr. Reese quickly removed the IV from DeFoe's arm, knowing they would need to fight. DeFoe felt the urgency mentally, but his body had already begun to fall under the effects of the anesthetic and his best only got him slowly and uncertainly to his feet, behind the bed.

The two sides stood silent, waiting. Some of the Foundation doctors stayed to help while the others escorted the sick and wounded out of the room. The sterile room, itself, seemed to wait.

"Get DeFoe gagged and brought upstairs," Grier ordered the suits. "Don't waist your time fighting the others."

Austin sped behind the hospital bed and pushed it aggressively into the suits and titans, starting the battle. The brave x-suit leapt over the table and into the startled crowd, shouting "Touch Ram!" as often as he could, blowing men through surgery curtains and toppling over beds.

The Organization had the advantage; not only were there many more of them but only the five doctors who stayed had titans with them.

"DeFoe! Get behind the doctors!" Dr. Reese commanded before using Augerfrost against a Mindrone that had swiped at him.

DeFoe obeyed and hurried to the back, slapping his own face in an effort to shake off the drug-induced drowsiness. He was a sitting duck in his present state.

Come on! Wake up! DeFoe commanded himself.

"Demolish them, Breaker!" Grier shouted from amongst the group. Suddenly, the giant bear-like titan exploded into existence and barreled into the small group on DeFoe's side.

DeFoe backed up against the wall and medicine cabinets as he watched his defenses give way. Dr. Reese barely dodged a swipe from the massive titan.

"Run!" Dr. Reese cried.

DeFoe didn't need to be told twice. To his right was a door and he hurried to it using the wall for support. He opened it and saw a staircase enclosed tightly by the walls. He closed the door and, in a panic, began climbing the stairs while leaning heavily against the wall. He looked up in dismay; the door at the top was so close, but his shaking legs climbed the stairs at a painful pace. He was only four steps from freedom when the door at the base of the stairs burst open and DeFoe and Grier locked gazes.

A part of DeFoe wanted to turn around and fight the mutineer and he extended an arm and commanded Poison Fang only to produce a weak stream that melted before it reached Grier. When Grier realized that DeFoe had no fight in him, he hurried forward up the stairs. DeFoe stumbled quickly up the last four stairs. He pushed open the door just as Grier tackled him from behind into the large garden-like courtyard.

There had been fighting before, but it all but stopped when the two barreled through the door. DeFoe struggled to free himself from the hulking slab of muscle that was Grier, his agility slowly coming back.

"Touch Ram!" he hollered, twisted with a hand against Grier's shoulder. It jerked backwards but not enough to free him.

Grier stood and pulled DeFoe to his feet, holding his arms in a vise-like grip behind his back. DeFoe scanned the crowd of Foundation agents and Organization suits and his eyes fell upon Dante, who had the most worried expression DeFoe had ever seen come across the man's face. At the other side of the courtyard, through the suits, emerged the red silken figure of Rassimov, yet the suits continued to part behind him for someone else. Grier brought him further towards the center and finally the second man, with white suit and cane, stepped into view; it was the Professor.

DeFoe was almost crazed with fear. Dante, having been kept from noticing the Professor, now saw the crisis of their situation. He commanded Caliban to attack Grier but before the battle had been engaged, Grier gave DeFoe a hard shove and sent him stumbling to his knees just a few feet from the Professor.

DeFoe scrambled to his feet, eyes trained on the Professor, who seemed angry enough to kill. He half expected him to order Rassimov to slit his throat, but he didn't. Instead, he held out both hands and began calling out the names of his seven titans.

"DeFoe!" Came the strained cry of Dr. Reese as he and Austin made it up the stairs and into the courtyard.

"Run!" Austin shouted.

DeFoe's spine felt like a branding iron against his flesh. The pressure inside exploded and he feared he would be torn apart. How on earth was he going to merge with all seven titans at the same time? It would kill him! His body hadn't given up, though, and continued straining to change shape. He gasped and couldn't breathe any longer. DeFoe fell to his hands and knees, his body lurching but then dying away.

"You pathetic weakling!" The Professor shrieked with rage. "Merge! Don't give up, my titans! Take him over!"

Another wave hit DeFoe and his body stiffened as it tried to transform. He felt wind, water, wings, electricity… Separate consciences faded in and out of his mind, none able to take root. His shaking arms gave way and DeFoe collapsed on the gravel. The titans were giving up. DeFoe gasped for air during the sporadic moments that his lungs worked. After a few feeble attempts at merging, the titans gave up all together and DeFoe amazed himself in still being alive. He closed his eyes, lightheaded from suffocation, not being able to gulp in air fast enough.

"DeFoe!" came a cry so full of sharp malice it might have cut through glass. "I'm going to wipe you off the face of the earth!" It didn't take a genius to know that something bad was about to happen, but DeFoe didn't have the strength to do anything about it.

I am going to die. He realized. He was afraid, but at another level, once the reality hit him, his surroundings seemed surreal. Death was no longer one of two options and DeFoe prepared himself as a prisoner in the 1800s might have before the noose. What had he to live for anyway? Everything he had striven for: his position and power were both gone.

The Professor commanded a spell DeFoe had never heard before, so powerful that the air itself became electrified. DeFoe opened his eyes and watched helplessly as the Professor pulled his arm back slowly and then thrust it forward. Suddenly, a body stepped in front of him and called out a shield spell. It was Austin.

The young suit stood as the only barrier between DeFoe and the Professor, holding a force field against the formidable spell. DeFoe couldn't believe his eyes; Austin was able to keep his ground.

"Everfight." DeFoe whispered frantically. He was strengthened slightly and was able to get to his knees. "Everfight." He whispered again and was able to balance on his feet.

The Professor's spell heated the air and made their hair stand on end. DeFoe watched Austin anxiously, seeing the darkened line down his back from sweat. The shield flickered and then held steady.

"Everfight." DeFoe said again. The shield would not hold for very much longer; he had better get out of there before it fell. DeFoe ran into the surrounding battle to lose the Professor and had just gotten to the edge of the crowd when he heard an explosion and Austin's painful cry.

DeFoe stopped near the wall of the courtyard and looked back. The air was clear and cool, pricking his bare skin: no longer charged. From where DeFoe stood, he could not see Austin or the Professor. His instincts urged hi to climb over the wall to freedom, but something deeper caused him to move slowly back to the scene. He wondered what had happened to Austin.

The Professor's voice echoed off of the stone walls: "Thus is the fate of every suit who double-crosses the Professor!"

Did that mean Austin was dead? DeFoe came closer, still careful to be concealed, though. He felt sick to his stomach, but not from the anesthetic; this uneasy knot was somewhere between his stomach and heart and much, much deeper.

"You left your own men." Dante had said in a previous scuffle. At the time, it hadn't hit him any harder than embarrassment about his own weakness, but that night, as the statement resurfaced in his mind, it pierced him. He had left Austin, who had given up his own security to protect him. DeFoe scrambled through to the front of the crowd, dodging blows aimed at others. Austin lay in the gravel where DeFoe had lain only moments before.

The Professor's eyes locked onto DeFoe and he held out a hand in a gesture no threat could match. DeFoe glanced at Austin whose white button-up shirt was slowly turning red down the front. He looked back up into the Professor's eyes with new strength backed by anger and crouched defensively. He extended his own hands, preparing to fight with whatever he had left.

Dante grabbed him from behind and stood beside him pointing menacingly at the Professor. "Back of, Professor, or I'll turn him on you."

The Professor, bewildered by Dante's insolence, lowered his hand slightly. "What are you saying?"

"While DeFoe was here, your surgeon took the liberty of implanting one of my titans: Metagolum." Dr. Reese moved to DeFoe's other side. By this time, the fighting had ceased and all were an audience to the exchange.

"You're bluffing," The Professor concluded.

Dante, as cool as ever, shrugged with a smirk. "If you say so. I'd be happy to prove you wrong by summoning him."

The Professor made no move, so Dante and Dr. Reese stepped away from DeFoe and Dante began: "Crush them—"

"Alright!" the Professor interrupted. "I believe you. Hand over DeFoe and we'll leave peaceably."

"How about we keep DeFoe, and you leave just as peaceably?" Dante offered as he and Dr. Reese came to DeFoe's side again.

Rassimov came out of the crowd indignantly and approached the Professor. "It is only one titan," he reasoned. "What is one titan against the Organization?"

"Quiet!" the Professor said. He glared at the three men. "You have not heard the last of me, Dante Vale. I will get him back." With that, he turned and stormed off towards the demolished side of the wall surrounding the courtyard. Titans were reabsorbed and suits trailed out of the crowd, following their leader. Rassimov, nearly invisible in the shadow, turned and glared at Dr. Reese.

"The Professor will not forget your treachery, Reese. You will you lose your life as well." Rassimov disappeared onto the street.

Dr. Reese sighed sadly. "He certainly changed you." He said under his breath.

DeFoe looked at Dr. Reese in wonder and Reese returned the look with a nod. The friend spoken of, back when mind wiping was only a distant threat to DeFoe, had been Rassimov. DeFoe would have ended up just like him.

Once the Organization was gone, Dr. Reese slid to his knees next to Austin, feeling his throat for a pulse. DeFoe followed at a ginger pace, curious but hesitant to get involved.

"He's still alive," Dr. Reese said hurriedly laying his hands on Austin's still body and speaking "Deep Heal." The glow left and Austin didn't budge. "Deep Heal." He commanded again. The front of Austin glowed and then faded. DeFoe approached and stood over them, watching. Dante jogged over to them.

"Any luck?" he asked.

"Yes, but he needs more severe help. Go get the doctors," Reese instructed. Dante hurried away. "DeFoe, Austin needs much more Deep Heal-ing immediately, but I cannot keep it up on my own; I just don't have the strength. You've experienced Deep Heal and you're a fast learning, I'm told – of spells, anyway. Why don't you give it a try."

"I would, but I hardly have enough energy to stay standing," DeFoe protested.

"You were able to Everfight," Reese countered.

DeFoe was taken aback. "Didn't you see what just happened to me?"

"DeFoe." Dr. Reese stared at him sternly. "Austin saved your life. Doesn't that mean something to you?"

"Should it?" DeFoe asked uncomfortably.

"He is going to die unless I can stop his internal bleeding and the only way to do that out here is Deep Heal." They glared at each other for a long moment before DeFoe sighed irritably and got down onto his knees.

"If anyone was able to use guilt as a weapon…" he grumbled as he placed his hands on Austin. "Deep Heal." He spoke. He felt power go out of him and into Austin. Dr. Reese commanded another bout of it and after three times of DeFoe and Reese's Deep Heal-ing, Austin began to breathe deeper.

If someone told me a year ago that I would use the last of my power to save a suit, I would have laughed in their face. DeFoe thought as he spoke "Deep Heal" again.

Austin began to stir, groaning quietly in his pain. His eyes opened in the darkness, though it took a little while longer for them to focus on the men above him. DeFoe quickly removed his hands form Austin's chest. He couldn't quite tell since it was dark and he didn't have his glasses, but it seemed to DeFoe that Austin's hard set mouth softened ever so slightly.

Dante returned with the rest of DeFoe's clothes and several of the Foundation doctors who had been scattered between the courtyard and the infirmary.

"He will be fine," Dr. Reese told the doctors as he and DeFoe stood. "He just needs to recover." The doctors moved Austin carefully to the stretcher they had brought and carried him down into the infirmary.

"I found these scattered around the floor in there," Dante mumbled handing the coat, shirt and glasses to DeFoe. DeFoe nodded a quick thanks and pulled his shirt on. Dante had used DeFoe as the bargaining chip to make the Organization retreat twice now. He put on his glasses and coat. Somehow it wasn't as annoying being on the other side.

They stood, awkward and silent, watching Foundation agents move around them, tending to the wounded and assessing the damage. Dr. Reese, for once, had nothing to say. A moment later, Guggenheim approached them from the direction of the hole in the wall. His shirt had been torn in places, though he did not notice.

"Nice job, Dante," Guggenheim said holding out a hand. "Fast thinking, as usual."

"Thanks, sir." Dante replied gripping his hand.

"So, what does this mean?" DeFoe asked. "What am I to do now?"

"Dr. Reese will remove the amulets from you, of course," Guggenheim answered.

DeFoe wasn't satisfied. "And then what?"

Guggenheim rolled his tongue around his cheek pensively. "I've been thinking about that as well," he answered. "You won't be safe out there in the world, even with the Professor's amulets extracted; the Professor will send assassins after you."

"I know," DeFoe said, his stomach sour with fear. There was not a place on earth where the Professor could not reach and no way a man could flee from the Organization for long. "There is no hope then, is there." It wasn't so much a question as it was a bleak statement of fact.

Guggenheim folded his large arms across his chest. "Now, I wouldn't go so far as to say that," he began. "There is no denying the fact that you'll have to remain here; as Dr. Reese said, the Huntik Foundation is the only place you'll be safe. The question remaining is what to do with you while you're here."

DeFoe's eyes flashed with anger. "I will not consent to stay as a prisoner. If that is what you are alluding to, I will take my leave—"

"DeFoe," Dr. Reese sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Will you keep your temper under control and listen to what the man has to say?"

What else would he say? DeFoe reasoned.

"Guggenheim, what are you thinking?" Dante asked gingerly.

"Just this," Guggenheim replied. "It is out of the question to hold him as a prisoner, since he came here for help – and we did just save him from the Organization – so I was thinking of how he could be of use and since all his skills are in the line of seekers, it seems appropriate for him to be taken on as such."

The three men visibly jolted at Guggenheim's words. DeFoe didn't know whether to feel indignant, suspicious, alarmed, frightened, or delighted. He, DeFoe, head over the suits… a Foundation agent? It was outrageous.

Dante seemed just as flabbergasted as DeFoe. "Guggenheim, I don't mean to sound disrespectful, but this is a bad idea! I mean, the man has been loyal to the Organization since I was a kid and he's known for being conniving, not to mention he hates my guts and the guts of the whole Foundation!"

Thanks, Dante. Though, DeFoe couldn't disagree with him; those characteristics had defined him for most of his lifespan. Still, as his emotions settled down, he realized that he didn't hate the Foundation as much as he had a month ago. Since he was no longer attached to the Organization, the Foundation didn't come against him personally.

"There would be a very long trial period, of course, before we made any advances towards him becoming a true agent, but I cannot think of a better place for him. Whether he wanted to be or not, he is at odds with the Organization – there is no way he would turncoat – he is a powerful seeker, and pretty experienced as such. If DeFoe wants to, I see no reason not to try." Guggenheim answered, turning to DeFoe.

DeFoe looked at the ground in thought. When Dr. Reese and Austin had helped him to escape from the Organization, DeFoe believed that his days as a seeker were over. He had consigned to a life of hiding and obscurity; he believed his glory days were past and the rest of his existence would be spent in a dark, unfulfilling world. A Foundation agent? His reflex response was to turn it down, but as he thought about it, it became more appealing. He would be protected, probably not accepted but included at least, able to do seeker work without the Professor, and he so loved seeking. The travel, the battles, the training, the studying, the discipline, the power, the thrill of spells… he loved everything about being a seeker and Guggenheim was offering him another chance to be just that.

He looked up at Guggenheim with a faint smile. "I will accept your offer. Thank you." DeFoe glanced at Dr. Reese, who nodded with approval, and to Dante who still couldn't quite believe what was happening, which made him smile even more.

Guggenheim grinned, showing his teeth. "Wonderful. And Dr. Reese, the same goes for you and your other friend. There's a place for you in the infirmary, if you desire it and a place for him as a possible agent, though I don't know if the Organization would pursue you both as doggedly as they would DeFoe."

"They would; believe me. Anyone who scorns them," Reese replied. "Besides, where else would we go?"

"Well, I trust you Guggenheim," said Dante rubbing the back of his neck, "So, I'll go along with this. But I think it's best if DeFoe and I aren't working side by side, at least for a while."

"Believe me, Dante Vale," DeFoe said with a glimmer of the old malice. "It wouldn't be my cup of tea either."

Guggenheim laughed and patted DeFoe on the back, which made the latter jerk and Guggenheim noticed. "What? No pats on the back in the Organization? Well, I guess we'll have to work up to that. How about a handshake to start with?" He extended his hand.

DeFoe looked at the large hand for a second and then, with a confident smile, gripped it with his own.


	11. Epilogue

Two months later…

DeFoe walked down the sunny hallway towards the infirmary turning Kreutalk's amulet over in his hands, feeling the metalwork with bare fingers. After two months of being limited to spells, Guggenheim had returned his first titan. If things went well, he would retrieve another titan every month. It was slow going, but he was so excited to have Kreutalk back, it didn't matter.

His face had more color to it than it had since before he could remember and, though he trained rigorously each day, he was not fatigued. His body felt tired sometimes, of course, but he had a new energy inside and a new passion for his work that had been muddied before in the Organization. Perhaps it had been muddied by fear or by pressure to perform, because here there was no fear between comrades. Everyone seemed to be, dare he think it, on the same side. The wounds from the major surgery Dr. Reese had performed on him as soon after the crisis as could be managed had taken a little longer to heal, perhaps because Dr. Reese hadn't used Deep Heal so vigorously on him since it was a taxing spell, but the healing felt more complete. After this last check-up, the bandages would be removed and the past would be completely behind him with nothing but the scar down his back as a reminder.

DeFoe walked into the infirmary and sat in the hard, plastic chair near the door waiting for Dr. Reese to finish with his patient. At the doctor's bidding, Austin hopped down from where he was seated on the hospital bed and came out from behind the plastic curtain. He passed DeFoe on his way out of the door and greeted him with a smile and a vigorous handshake.

"The doc says I'm all healed through," the past-suit said cheerfully. "The Professor… peh. I can stand anything that old gasbag can throw at me."

"Can you now?" DeFoe tested.

"Well, with Dr. Reese and your Deep Healing I can." He added. "I'll see you later. I hope your doctor's visit goes as well as mine."

"Thank you," DeFoe answered as Austin left through the door.

DeFoe approached the hospital bed and pushed back the curtain. Dr. Reese was making notes in a small notebook and put it back into his lab coat pocket. He recognized DeFoe with a nod and motioned for him to sit, pulling out the notebook again.

"Today's the big day, isn't it?" he asked as he wrote. "The last check up."

"Indeed it is," DeFoe said as he removed his coat, lay face down on the bed and pulled his shirt up in the back past his shoulder blades.

Dr. Reese unwrapped the bandaging and gauze and examined the scar. He pressed his fingers in several spots and then, with a satisfied grunt, he wrote in the notebook again.

"You're free to go. Perfectly healed. Though you'll have that scar for the rest of your life, I'd imagine." Dr. Reese said, preoccupied.

DeFoe tugged his shirt down over his bandage-less torso and pulled on his coat. "I had gotten so used to the feeling of gauze under my clothes, I feel like I'm thinner." He mentioned.

"That wouldn't be the best; you're not the thickest fellow in the Foundation to begin with," Dr. Reese said, replacing his notebook. "Though you have fleshed out a little since being here."

"I've been eating better, I guess," DeFoe replied, pulling Kreutalk's amulet over his head and letting it dangle against his chest. He gazed into it thoughtfully. "Reese, I have puzzled over something for a long time and I'm dying to know the answer to it." He looked up at the surgeon. "Why did you bother with me? No doubt I was just like the countless others you had experimented upon. Why me?"

Dr. Reese fidgeted with his pencil; for the first time DeFoe had ever seen, the eloquent Dr. Reese was at a loss for words. "I don't know," he finally said, seeming to work out his answer even as he spoke. "The other operations I had performed didn't hurt their recipients, not really. Tracking chips, things like that. I guess, I just saw how much you were suffering. How exploited, and I couldn't watch. I was horrified at what I had done to you. I guess the Organization hadn't rotted me entirely through; I guess I still had a few nerves left."

"I see," said DeFoe. "I certainly was a bother, wasn't I?"

Dr. Reese laughed to himself. "Yes, you were for a little bit."

"I think I bother the Foundation agents," DeFoe continued.

"You might, but you will get used to each other." Dr. Reese replied. "I can tell you, for the first few weeks I couldn't go near any of the surgical tools without getting some worried looks from the other doctors. Just wait; you have such a magnetic personality that within a year you'll be close friends with half the Foundation."

"That's a joke, isn't it?" DeFoe asked dryly.

"Well, the magnetic personality part was. But I am serious when I say that you'll have more friends than you'll know what to do with eventually."

"I'll take your word for it." DeFoe said. Neither spoke for a moment. It was silent until DeFoe spoke again. "You know, Reese," he began in a less certain tone than before. "I count you as my friend; probably my first, but my friend nonetheless. Though, to be honest, if our roles had been switched back in the Organization, I wouldn't have set you free."

"I think you would have, eventually." Dr. Reese said. "Despite how Dante teases, I don't believe you were rotten all the way through either."

DeFoe smiled thinly. "Thank you," he said.

"You're welcome," Dr. Reese replied.

"No, thank you for rescuing me. I would have died otherwise. Even if it took years of being the Professor's mindless puppet, eventually I would have died."

Dr. Reese looked into DeFoe's eyes and repeated, more solemnly: "You're welcome, my friend."

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finished! I hope you all have enjoyed the ride and maybe now you like DeFoe more than you used to (though to be willing to read a story that follows him for ten chapters and an epilogue, you must not be entirely against him). I really enjoyed writing this, except the last bit of chapter 10. I was having trouble coming up with something that didn't sound cheesy. Once I actually sat down at the computer and consciously decided to finish it, though, it went well.


End file.
